


of scars and broken men

by Crydamoure



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crydamoure/pseuds/Crydamoure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing beautiful about scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of scars and broken men

"This scar, mister Graham, should bear your name." The monotone voice lazily drawled out every word that lingered above them in the darkness of the bedroom.

And Will's fingers immediately move up, along Chilton's neck, brushing the pulsating veins, sinking in the scratchy mess that was his beard and finally reaching the circular scar. A small island in the middle of the ocean, a tribute to the flawed flesh. If it was his scar, then Will wanted to claim this ownership, he wanted to feel it, cover the tips of his fingers with shame and disgrace that the former psychiatrist seemed to breathe in and out these days. It was shaped like a sun, in the middle of blinding darkness in which Hannibal has left them both.

"Then this scar should bear Hannibal's name, right?" And his other hand moves down, along the sweaty chest, following the valleys and hills of imperfect ribs, until he reaches it and his finger slides along the precise cut. Like a zipper. Chilton hisses at him, his spine arches unnaturally-- this scar was off limits, you don't talk about this scar, you don't touch this scar --and yet he does not move away, simply allowing Will to explore its rigidness and unwavering presence with trembling fingertips.

"Technically it was Gideon who did this to me."

"Technically it was Miriam Lass who did this to you." And Will's other hand draws a circle around the gunshot wound that was healing so well. Looks like _his_ scar won't be around as long as Hannibal's. It won't last as long. Will can feel his stomach twist in a mixture or rage and envy, but he knew that these feelings did not belong to him-- those were stray emotions that he simply picked up along the way. But with Chilton they always resonated so strongly...

"But all in all-- it's still Hannibal." The psychiatrist notes with a certain note of defeat in his tone. And Will doesn't like this, he doesn't like to think of Hannibal without the fires of **retribution** crackling in his head. But with Frederick, he just felt calmer whether he liked it or not.

"Hannibal the Cannibal." Chilton stares at the ceiling with an unfocused gaze. God, he was so proud of that nickname as if it was really something inspiring.

Circular scar. Thin, straight scar. Little dots that created constellations of injection scars. All Hannibal.

Will looks at Chilton and sees a marked man. Chilton looks at him and Will knows he thinks the same. He was scarred in the same way, maybe even more, albeit more subtly.

You can't pick up on mental scars as easily, muses Will, finally drawing fingers away from Chilton's skin and kissing the dry lips to taste some of that regret. They don't heal either-- nobody can recover from what I've seen. From what I've done.

We're broken men, you and I.

Living trophies walking and breathing.

A serial killer's advertisement.


End file.
